#i just hate assumptions idk theyre always wrong about my queer disabled but walking around ass and it hurts on every single level

[cascadianights]

Something I've been thinking about a lot and don't have the words for yet is... the way many leftist spaces are really quick to either 1) list all aspects of their identity as proof they can be talking on this subject (therefore if you do not ESPECIALLY if someone disagrees w you you are by default assumed NOT part of the group speaking out and over it) and 2) in the lack of those identifiers assume privilege.

Not just in the terms of "I disagree so you must be outside this group/not have this apply to you" but also in terms of the thin slice decision based on a profile picture or an intro of how oppressed you must be (not) and how much privilege you carry (assumably all of it). And the way that interacts with my whiteness and any trace of femininity I can't squash because people see a picture of me and come up with a story (str8 yt probably cis girl from Large City California and Money) and that story is inherently at odds with almost all parts of my identity ESPECIALLY the ones I'm struggling with most in terms of them being visual.

The real world does not doubt my poverty as I walk through the store with holes full of clothes and a tennis shoe half flopping off at the bottom. The bullies in school never doubted my queerness or the way my looks othered me - my thick eyebrows my thick, dark body and chest hair on top of large breasts sagging against a dollar store sports bra. The people in public may doubt my disability, until I start rocking back and forth and pinning my ears bc the lights and screens and dance music at the tmobile store is Too Much or I faint mid conversation and wake up confused and bruised. My being trans is easy to overlook some days, completely at odds with everything about me another. My being assumed to be a str8 cis woman burns in my veins and gut like poison. My skin is pale and white and that means I've never faced racism, but it also means that when my dad tried to explain how important his native ancestry was to him and how his father (long dead by the time I was born) and grandmother (actually native) cared so much about it and it was his connection to them, I basically told him we couldn't be native because we are white and destroyed most of the things he gave me related to that bc I was taught that anyone who looked white pretending to be native was a liar and a colonizer, and it took me until I was TWENTY EIGHT listening to a native activist talk about how those ('liberal leftist') ideas were based in and perpetuating blood quantums set by the government and the idea that we just needed to breed the Indian out of the man by diluting it and teaching the next generation to ignore and walk away from it and my entire worldview on a part of my identity and how Id internalized how I was meant to view it cracked and I still haven't figured out how to renegotiate that or the way I treated that ancestor and all the ancestors of hers by internalizing those beliefs, or the way that poverty means most of my family died young or in abusive relationships and I have DESPERATELY little to go off in terms of family stories or traditions or knowledge or trees farther back than my great grandparents. Every woman in my family as far back as I know married an abusive man, and at least one was killed by her husband! Some of my family came from Ireland and Scotland as refugees, hundreds of years back, and just stayed in the north until abuse and poverty chased them south. My family tree is one of unspoken mental illness and autism that gets talked around, one of poverty, one of abusive men and strong women fighting to survive.

And anyways none of that can be put into an intro section or summarized into neat lines and boxes of identity and my whiteness is inherently entrenched in generations of poverty and refugees and questions of identity and the way my femininity is seen as amplified no matter what I do, and that part of me being seen as the Exact Same in a conversation or quick slice judgement as a Berkeley blue eyed white woman whose family owns a house in the hills and has 300 generations back of middle-upper class wasps (this is about a real person and I can name 3 similar ones off the top of my head) feels so wrong and debilitating and undermining and invalidating and without a doubt almost always Additionally poses me as str8 and cis and then I am told passing as such is a privilege when every part of my being is screaming to be seen as my actual self or as some more realistic version of my actual self or at least not as some immediately discarded Karen talking about shit I know nothing about instead of a disabled queer person who grew up in poverty left my home state and family as an early political and climate refugee and has spent years engaged in real world activism